


House On A Hill

by hergan416



Series: Love's Riddles [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Depression, Ghosts, Immortality, M/M, katamar, mentions mass burial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hergan416/pseuds/hergan416
Summary: Katakuri is stuck. He's NOT going back to Big Mom, but Marco doesn't seem to want him either. So, he stays on the beach, waiting for Marco to give him a chance.Besides, he recognizes this behavior all too well: Marco's stopped living for himself.Sequel to Help Me Doctor (I Have Sinned).
Relationships: Charlotte Katakuri/Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco
Series: Love's Riddles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637371
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. Call Out My Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titled after the Pretty Reckless’ song “House On A Hill” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vl3iWK0a3zQ).
> 
> Thank you to my lovely partner for all the writing inspiration and for letting me incessantly bounce ideas off of you. I know that One Piece isn't your fandom, and I greatly appreciate your encouragement and support.

Marco wasn’t about to listen to Katakuri ( _ of all people _ ) lecturing him on selflessness. They both had always been the kind of people that would prioritize their families over themselves. That was why they had  _ ended  _ and Marco was cursing Katakuri for  _ not leaving the island _ after yet  _ another  _ ill-advised tryst.

Instead, when Marco flew his morning patrol over the island, he noticed that Katakuri had holed up in the mochi cave that he’d created on the beach. No supplies had been moved from the ship yet, even though it had already been over a day since Marco had left Katakuri alone there. Katakuri seemed to have eaten a bench into the wall, and was sitting on it. (Why didn’t he just awaken his haki again and reform the mochi? Katakuri couldn’t possibly  _ survive _ on the product of his own devil fruit.)

Katakuri didn’t even look up when Marco flew over. He probably had already seen that Marco wouldn’t stop and decided not to react.  _ Bastard. _

Fuming, Marco finished his circle over the small island and flew back into town to help the villagers. They seemed relatively healthy today--a minor scrape here, a cut there, the same knee and back pain as always. (One day, in hundreds of years when his phoenix was ready to pass on, would he suffer these pains? Or would he just flame into glory and leave his devil fruit behind, waiting for the next wielder? Would he even be  _ allowed  _ to stop surviving his friends?) Marco shook his head and forced a smile as blue flame spread over the next scraped elbow, thoughts turning towards the homework assignment he must know how to teach despite not having formal schooling as a kid. 

(An echo of a child’s voice unbidden:  _ Marco is magic.  _ Marco is starting to wish he was a little bit less magical.)

The chaos of the village keeps him in check until nightfall. As the light fades, Marco finishes his routine by walking up the path into the mountains, towards Ace and Whitebeard’s graves. He picks a wildflower on the way, adding it to the growing pile that has been accumulating between the headstones, the front of the small cemetery that Marco has begun to create. He’s been burying Pops’ other sons here too now, those that have fallen as Marco has continued to be the only one waking up alive in the wake of Blackbeard’s slaughter: the Grudge Wars. (At least these ones  _ have  _ graves, unlike the unmarked mass of “less-important” pirates that the marines  _ didn’t  _ hand over to Shanks.)

The wind picks up, rushing through the open front of Marco’s shirt and the crop of blond hair on his head. It’s almost dark now, and Marco’s eyes have to strain to see much more than the outline of cemetery. “He’s still here, yoi,” he says to the air. “I wonder if he’s taunting me.”

Marco closes his eyes as the wind goes still around him. He can’t figure out what else to add. That Katakuri should leave? That he’s distracting him from properly protecting the village? That he  _ can’t fucking handle this right now _ ? Nothing sounds right to Marco’s ears. “I should just drive him away, before he attracts more trouble,” Marco mutters.  _ Ace, Pops--what would you do?  _ The next breeze is chillier, darkness stealing the warmth from the island, but no answer comes. Understandable, because the words to the dead men aren’t even spoken aloud.

The sun has fully set, and it is dark when Marco reaches his small cabin on the edge of the village. He pulls out food, smiling bittersweetly in memory as he goes through the motions of preparing it into something edible. If Thatch were alive he’d scold Marco for it, but he’s not, so he doesn’t put in much effort. It’s not like it’s inedible, and Marco can’t bring himself to  _ care  _ about nutrients, not when his bird survives on anything anyways. He leaves his dirty dishes in the sink for morning, and climbs into bed.

Marco closes his eyes, hoping that sleep comes quickly to him this evening. The night’s cold dissipates just as Marco’s breathing evens out, dropping him into deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Katakuri woke up in the middle of the night, boiling hot. At first he wasn’t sure if it was a future or present sensation, since it didn’t seem that there was any immediate cause of it, until he noticed the gray flames in the corner of the cave, barely brighter than the flicker of moonlight. They were vaguely shaped like a man, but his details were fuzzy, almost like he existed in a dream. Katakuri wondered briefly if he was awake, deciding to stab himself with the spur of his boot to check. It hurt; he was awake.

The flames began to morph until the pale light clearly reflected the shape of a human. His dark hair and eyes were shaded by a wide brimmed hat, a pair of goggles perched on the brim. The hat didn’t, however, block the moonlight from highlighting the freckles on the man’s nose, nor the lopsided, cocky smile that Katakuri remembered always gracing the face of the Whitebeards’ 2nd division commander.

“Ace,” he stated, directing the comment at the figure.

Ace nodded, and Katakuri briefly wondered if the spirit could talk, until it opened its mouth and words formed. “Are you going to leave Marco alone again?” Ace asked, the room growing hotter.

Katakuri wasn’t sure why he didn’t predict the information, only that he didn’t, and that had him wary. Were spirits immune to observation haki? Or was Katakuri unsettled enough at the appearance of a grayed out version of Ace that he was stuck in present tense? The spirit probably couldn’t do much to him, but without his haki, there was no good way to know for sure. Perhaps he could avoid Ace’s reach if he left the island, but that would mean leaving Marco when it was  _ very  _ clear the other man needed him right now. Would Ace force him off the island? Was he upset that Katakuri had pursued Marco here?

“What do you mean?” Katakuri asked, stalling.

“Are you going to abandon Marco again?” the spirit repeated, growing in height as half of the spirit’s face burst into flame and reached for the roof of the cave. 

Katakuri felt his mouth going dry just as relief hit him. Ace wanted him to  _ stay  _ with Marco, not leave him. That was good. He could deal with that. He’d already made the decision to wait here until he could patch things up with the man, and maybe get what he’d decided he wanted--live for himself for a change.

Ace was riled up now though, and Katakuri wasn’t sure how long he’d be safe. He shook his head before speaking. “I have made up my mind. I’m done living by her rules.” Unspoken was the fact that he’d rather live by  _ his. _

Ace’s form approached Katakuri’s makeshift bed, The heat grew stronger with each stride, and Katakuri began to sweat involuntarily. “Just because you aren’t living by her rules doesn’t mean that  _ your  _ rules won’t fuck him up more. I won’t stand for it.”

Katakuri turned to face the spirit. “I don’t think that  _ you  _ have the right to talk about  _ not fucking him up _ .” He gestured to the island wildly. “Who’s the one who  _ died _ ?”

He probably shouldn’t have provoked something that he couldn’t predict and didn’t understand. Ace was on him in an instant, burning hot and mad. Katakuri could only finish his sentence. “I know a bit about living solely for others’ expectations. I think I know what I’m doing.”

Ace growled at Katakuri, but stopped. The heat was unbearable, but Katakuri stood his ground. “I’m not going to let him sacrifice himself in guilt, and I’m not going to give him a reason to do it more, if that’s what you're concerned about.”

Ace sneered at Katakuri, getting right up in his face, extending his midsection with flames in order to grow tall enough to look down on him, before flickering out. Just before the last flames extinguished and Katakuri was left alone and cold, the words “Don’t make me regret this,” washed over the cave, no longer from a specific source. Then Ace was gone. 

Katakuri shivered, repositioning himself on the makeshift bed and wishing suddenly for a blanket. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Marco woke in the morning feeling warm and comfortable, like he’d spent the night in a lover’s embrace. He had slept more soundly, and with fewer nightmares, than he had in months, leaving him extremely well-rested. Marco felt hesitant to leave the bed, but the morning sun was already beginning to get high in the sky, and the town was already bustling with morning chores. He hadn’t yet made his morning patrol of the island, so he forced himself upright and into a clean pair of clothes, skipping breakfast for his flight.

Katakuri was, predictably, still on the island. As much as Marco wished he would have just left, he knew it was too much to expect, especially given the lack of communication. Still, Marco wished Katakuri wasn’t waving up at him, trying to get him to stop. 

“Go away!” Marco shouted, maintaining his position in the air. Katakuri had to have known that would happen. Why did he even bother trying?

“No,” was the muffled response, but Marco didn’t stick around the shore to hear the explanation.

That night, Marco ranted about how stubborn Katakuri was to the headstones.

Katakuri was still there the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. They began to fall into a routine. Marco would tell Katakuri to leave, Katakuri would refuse, Marco would rant to Whitebeard and Ace at night. (Ace would hold Marco and keep him warm through the night, but couldn’t make his presence known any more than that, for fear the other man would never move on.)

One day Marco shifted the ritual to include shouting the line “Go away and eat something!” at Katakuri. The next day, Katakuri had brought his supplies from the ship to the cave and looked less like he was starving. 

As endearing as that was, nothing more changed until today. Today, Marco, in a fit of rage, told Katakuri to “Go away and live with your family.”

Katakuri had shown up on Marco’s doorstep later that afternoon. Before now, Marco wasn’t even sure that Katakuri knew there was a village here, since he’d never seen Katakuri leave the mochi cave.  _ Now _ , it seemed obvious that Katakuri’s observation haki would have alerted him to the island’s other inhabitants without him moving an inch. His scarf was still gone, meaning that he looked big and intimidating, and Marco knew it would make a scene. Was this Katakuri’s intention?

“That’s not at all what I meant, and you know it, yoi” Marco stated flatly as he opened his door, taking as much of the doorway as possible so as to not allow Katakuri to see just how sorry a state his living quarters was in.

“It’s how I chose to take it,” Katakuri returned. “If I can’t come inside, I will just live on your doorstep.”

There was a crowd gathering, villagers watching their precious Marco quarreled with this strange and scary man. It wasn’t the first time a powerful and scary looking pirate had visited, but things seemed more tense than they had with Mister Cat Viper, so the crowd was watchful, clutching brooms and found items closely in case they were needed.

“Your mother still has your vivre card, correct?” Marco pressed. “You’re endangering this village if that’s true, yoi.” Some of the village’s moms clutched their children tight to their sides, eyes wide.

“You overestimate her priorities,” Katakuri argued. “I have lost a battle. I have left to redeem myself. Perhaps I never will. Besides, she never went after Lola when she left the crew.” Marco couldn’t watch as some of the tension was leaving the mens’ shoulders as they listened to Katakuri, realizing that it was Marco pushing away a friend, that Katakuri didn’t mean harm.

“Lola was never half of what you are to Big Mom, and you know it. Will she really stay distracted for that long, yoi? Will she really never come after everyone’s  _ favorite older brother _ ?” He couldn’t dare to hope that this could  _ work.  _ He  _ had  _ to pay attention to the returning tension in mothers’ arms when he mentioned the Empress.

“Who knows?” Katakuri argued. “But I will always know ahead of time what she is up to, and we can plan for it then.” 

\--Couldn’t watch as the little girl who called him magic the other day broke free from her worried mother’s grasp.

“Just leave me to protect this place in peace!  _ Please,  _ yoi, I beg you--” 

That little girl was between them now, surprising Marco, but obviously not Katakuri, who hadn’t even opened his mouth to reply.

“Let the big scary man live with you Marco. He cares, I can tell!” She was so sweet and innocent, full of optimism. “You shouldn’t just take care of us and pray to the dead all day.”

There was nodding, the whole crowd was nodding along, mothers were letting go of their children who were joining the little girl and adding in their voices to the mix.   
  
“Take care of yourself too Marco.”

“My mommy says that you look sad and alone Marco.”

“Let him stay and help you Marco.”

Marco wanted to be stubborn, wanted to shout that enough was enough, slam his fist on the door to make a point and close it forever.. But his new family, Whitebeard’s family that he was watching over, had spoken, and tears were running down his face unbidden.

“Why?”

The word was quiet, nearly inaudible to anyone but Katakuri, whose proximity would have let him hear it even if his haki hadn’t.  _ Why _ did he get to have a life still, why did he have to live for himself for these people to be satisfied?  _ Why??? _

Katakuri didn’t answer immediately, instead wrapping his arms around Marco and pulling him to his chest, letting him cry there. “Because they love you too,” he whispered back, just as quietly, save the fact that Marco’s ear was to Katakuri’s lungs as he exhaled the words. The crowd around them faded away as Marco allowed himself to  _ finally _ release the grief that had been building up over the last several years through soft racking sobs, his tears streaming down Katakuri’s chest.

They weren’t fixed yet, but at least they were talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will likely include explicit sexual content as they make up.
> 
> Interesting article on the various global phoenix legends: https://bulletin.swarthmore.edu/bulletin-issue-archive/archive_p=117.html.


	2. Fly Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a title to Chapter One, it's a song title also. It references a song by the Weeknd.
> 
> This one refers to the song "Cape of Our Hero" by Volbeat.
> 
> The third chapter will be titled House On A Hill and finally get to the point of the fic. It keeps getting longer than I intend, so I keep having to add chapters.
> 
> Canon-compliance speculation that is related to Wano spoilers in the end notes.

The crowd eventually dissipated, leaving Marco alone in Katakuri's caring hands. Katakuri found it odd how trusting they were, but perhaps that was just the way of common folk outside of Whole Cake Island. Unwilling to see the dangers lying ahead.

He hoped to not be a danger. But these villagers couldn’t _know_.

Marco was finally calming down enough that Katakuri expected to be let into the house, but all he could visualize was another fight.

_Katakuri will make a move to start moving past Marco and through the cabin door, only to be stopped by Marco's arm._

_“I’m not ready yet, yoi,” Marco would say. “Come back tomorrow.”_

_“That completely misses the point,” Katakuri will argue, and Marco will pout._

_“My house isn’t ready for company, let alone you moving in.”_

_“It can’t be that bad…”_

He wants to avoid it. Maybe if he just forces his way into the house before Marco can protest?

_Katakuri will forcibly back Marco through the open door and into the dark cabin. He sees immediately why Marco has (hypothetically) been hesitant to allow company in._

Katakuri has to consciously work to keep the surprise off his face so that Marco doesn’t see what he’s planning. 

_The cabin is filthy. Dirty dishes in the sink, covered in mold, dust on nearly every surface, clothes on the floor… Marco hasn’t been willing to take care of himself for a while now it seems._

_“What are you doing, yoi!” Marco will protest, he will sound panicked._

Katakuri knows _that_ won’t do either.

“We should head inside,” he says firmly, not letting the future change the decision.

“I’m not ready yet, yoi,” Marco argues, and Katakuri doesn’t blame him.

“That completely misses the point,” Katakuri responds, knowing what will happen next.

Marco is pouting. “My house isn’t ready for company, let alone you moving in.”

“I have already seen it,” Katakuri replies, eyes unreadable. “And it is ok.”

Marco looks upset, but seems willing to stop rejecting Katakuri’s request.

“You won’t let me clean?” Marco asks, a half-hopeful grin on his face.

“Only if you let me help,” Katakuri replies gruffly.

And Marco opens the door.

It’s exactly as Katakuri envisioned. Though, his vision didn’t entirely prepare him for the _smell._ He wills his breathing to remain even and his face to stay expressionless. Katakuri walks inside, and Marco follows, letting the door close behind him.

Katakuri circles the small room once and nods, before gaining multiple mochi arms and beginning a cleaning task with each. Dishes, trash, making the bed, lighting the lamps. It’s almost cute how quickly Marco jumps to do _something_ as soon as Katakuri begins, not wanting to be left behind.

As they finish and the place _looks_ presentable, Katakuri throws open the blinds to let some outside air in. Marco leaves to take out the trash, and Katakuri surveys the room now. Marco lives in a small cabin divided into two sections. (With no walls or doors between them, just a half wall to delineate the architectural difference, Katakuri can’t quite bring himself to call them _rooms._ ) On one side is a kitchenette, the half-wall widened on top to provide a counter top for kitchen prep (or dirty dishes, as Marco had been using it). A singular wooden bar stool on the opposite side of the wall creates an eating space, the only relic of the kitchen on the living room/bedroom side of the cabin. A bearskin rug was about the only decor on this side, aside from the full sized wood-framed bed and the wooden rocking chair. It’s this side that has the open window, and the door to the house.

Marco returns as Katakuri finishes looking everything over, and nods. “What do you think?”

The fact that Marco swallowed dryly when making the comment isn’t lost on Katakuri.

“It’s a fine space,” Katakuri replies.

“Shower is outside, unfortunately. Same with the outhouse.”

Katakuri nods. The island is poor, it makes sense they would have a communal bathing area.

“So,” Marco approaches, looking a bit guilty. Katakuri frowns.  
  
“So what?” he asks. “You hungry?” he stalks towards the refrigerator to see what food Marco has available.

Marco shrugs, and Katakuri decides to take it as a yes. He glances at the food inside and takes quick mental notes, figuring out an acceptably nutritious meal plan, and pulling out the required ingredients. Marco’s fridge looks like it was stocked to be eaten cold, but Katakuri doesn’t comment, instead using the rudimentary cooking knowledge imparted upon every one of Big Mom’s children to create something delicious. Again, multiple mochi arms sprout to aid his task.

Seeming to decide not to bother Katakuri, Marco slumps into the rocking chair in the living room, watching him. A companionable silence falls, Katakuri content to focus on his cooking while Marco stares out the window watching the afternoon turn to dusk, emotionally exhausted.

_“I have an errand to run, yoi,” Marco will interrupt._

_Katakuri will raise an eyebrow, “Where do you need to go this time of night?”_

_“To say goodnight to_ them,” _he will reply, and at this moment, Katakuri finally fully understands the villagers’ sentiments._

It’s important for Marco to hear the whole conversation, so Katakuri doesn’t skip over anything when the time comes.

“I have an errand to run, yoi,” Marco interrupts. 

Katakuri raises an eyebrow, “Where do you need to go this time of night?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

“To say goodnight to _them_ ,” Marco replies _._

Katakuri nods. “Maybe tomorrow night, I can come with?” he offers.

Marco looks surprised, but nods back. And then he’s out the door, a shadow headed up the mountain. Katakuri feels a distinct pang in his heart as Marco leaves, almost like he might not come back. _That can’t be right. He would have_ sensed _it._

* * *

Marco complains to the headstones again, but there is less vitriol in his voice tonight. He tells Whitebeard and Ace all about Katakuri and their fight, how annoying it is to have broken down like he did, how embarrassing it was to get his house cleaned out like that, like he _couldn’t have done it himself._ How Katakuri looked a _little too used_ to cleaning up the kind of mess Marco had made. How he was curious about it, and unable to bring it up.

How did one move from fuck-buddies to having some sort of real, intimate relationship? Especially after all this time? Especially wanting to be left alone?

Marco almost thinks he hears a chuckle on the wind. But it’s obviously just a bird, or a branch.

“I guess I’m bringing him here tomorrow. Your family all seem to think he’s good for me, so I guess he’s sticking around, whether I want him to or not. And he asked so…”

There is still no response. Marco knows there won’t be, but he sits in silent companionship with them for a while longer.

He glances off into the horizon, now black and dark. He isn’t sure how long it has been, and it worries him. How long did he rant and rave at them, forgetting Katakuri cooking at home? He should return.

So he hurriedly says as much and rushes down the path.

Despite being able to turn into a bird made of fire, Marco doesn’t think about the fact that doing so would make traveling back home safer. His human eyesight is poor when it is this dark, and he trips over a rock in his haste, tumbling down the path and bursting into blue flame as he twists his ankle.

He doesn’t want to delay himself longer, so he walks on it as it heals, which of course injures it more. Which in turn lights up the path for him as he makes his way back down the mountain and towards his cabin at the edge of the town. It doesn’t really _hurt,_ so what’s the problem?

Finally he reaches the house, about a twenty minute walk, and tumbles through the door, all apologies.

“I’m sorry. I lost track of time, there’s just so much that happened today and I needed to tell them about it…”

The smell of dinner hits Marco and he stumbles over to the bar stool, sitting down to the plate of (now cold) food Katakuri had prepared for him. His leg _finally_ finishes healing, now that it’s not being used, and Marco stops glowing.

"It's alright," Katakuri replies, though Marco doesn't really feel he should mean it. Marco falls silent and focuses on his food.

Once Marco has taken a few bites, he looks around the apartment, noticing that Katakuri seemed to have been pacing while Marco was out. There is a pattern worn in the bearskin rug, even if Katakuri had already seated himself in Marco's armchair before Marco stumbled into the house. Marco also notices that the only dinner dishes that remain are the ones he is eating from.

“I didn’t know when you would get back, so I already ate,” Katakuri interrupts Marco's silence to explain.

Marco nods, taking a few more silent bites, not knowing what else to add. “Sorry to trouble you,” he ends up mumbling through a bite of cheesy pasta.

Katakuri stands and walks behind Marco, wrapping an arm around him. Marco can feel warmth radiating from the other’s body. It’s not as much as Ace’s, but still more than his own body produces, and Marco leans into the comfort of it.

“I don’t like to see you hurt like that, you know?” Katakuri admits. His tone is soft, quiet, _private_ in a way Marco doesn’t expect, and he turns his head up to look at the vulnerable expression on Katakuri’s face. It’s mostly in his eyes, since his mouth doesn’t seem built to downturn more than a little, but what Marco sees there is a bit of a whirlwind. Something he’s not expecting, and that he feels he can get lost in.

There is pain there. Worry. So many emotions that Marco can recognize and share. Marco stares deep into Katakuri's eyes and lets his own reflect the frustrations and pain of the last several days. He reaches up a hand and traces Katakuri's jawline tentatively. Katakuri's fingers mirror the move, gently tracing Marco's stubble.

Katakuri's face grows larger in Marco's vision, until, unexpectedly, somehow, they are kissing. It is tender, ginger, so unlike _anything_ they've done to each other before, that Marco gasps. Katakuri is being _so careful_ with those teeth that had only ever ripped and bit Marco before, instead fully opening his mouth and using only his tongue, lathing promises of pleasure into Marco's mouth. Marco is overwhelmed.

The bar stool spins around and Marco feels his chest bump into Katakuri's now that they are facing. Katakuri draws patterns in Marco’s sides as they kiss, examining every inch of him like it’s the first time they have touched, like he’s learning who Marco is anew.

Marco’s hands flutter up and begin to do the same to Katakuri. Marco’s surprised at how much Katakuri seemed to have beefed himself up with his devil fruit before now, even when naked, then thinks of how long it had taken for Marco to command him to eat. Had he made himself bigger everywhere before, an attempt at intimidation or allure? Or had he shrunk from lack of nutrition? Guilt floods into Marco’s eyes, and Katakuri kisses him harder, shaking his head, that no, it wasn’t Marco’s fault.

Marco doesn’t know if he can trust it, but all his feelings seem connected to Katakuri at this point, so he doesn’t dwell on it and continues to explore. Things slowly get more heated, but Katakuri remains careful, never doing anything that might cause cool blue flame to erupt on the other man’s flesh. Eventually, Katakuri lifts Marco off his seat, and carries him towards the bed, leaning him gently into the covers, and using the increased area to begin to explore Marco’s legs, his feet, his ass.

Marco loses his composure, unable to do much more than kiss back and enjoy it, feeling overly stimulated by Katakuri’s talented hands. He doesn’t resist when his pants are removed, or his shirt, or when Katakuri does the same for himself.

They don’t kiss immediately after the shirts are removed, and Marco frowns, even as Katakuri begins to drive him mad with the slow, deliberate touches _anywhere_ but between his open and inviting legs.

He realizes why when Katakuri speaks. 

“I want to show you that this is equal,” Katakuri says, kissing Marco to prevent a reply. It would be frustrating, if Katakuri wasn’t so achingly _tender_ and _teasing_ and _finally_ touching Marco’s weeping cock. When Marco needs to breath, Katakuri is continuing. “That I will give you anything I’m willing to take from you.”

 ** _What_** _did Katakuri plan?_ Marco’s brain isn’t functioning as he’s pulled into Katakuri’s rhythm. It’s not an injury though, so his phoenix does nothing to kick start it, nothing to redirect his blood flow, nothing to help him process or protest, or do anything besides touch and be touched and _let it happen._

Even so, on some primal level, Marco _knows_ what Katakuri will try before he does it. He gave himself away with his words, or his intimacy, or _something_ . Marco just hadn’t expected Katakuri to have already _prepped himself_ . The _forethought._ But, Marco supposed, that’s what you get when you make your name by seeing into the future.

Marco’s more than fine (if a bit surprised) with it, dick straining as Katakuri braces himself over Marco, slowly lowering himself down, straining muscles to keep the pace steady. Marco can tell it’s the first time that Katakuri has _done_ this, simply by how careful he is, by the faces he’s making, by the way he _breathes_. Marco wants to help, but once more, Katakuri is so careful, there is no injury, so the phoenix is useless, trapped under the heat of the other man.

Katakuri feels _tight_ even if he’s already slicked up. It’s not like Marco’s never topped before; he knows the position well, if not in _this_ relationship. But Katakuri is _enticing_ Marco by maintaining such careful control, control that Marco immediately wants to see abandoned. Marco wants to explore, to find out what makes Katakuri lose that careful composure, to _lose sight of the future_ . Katakuri told him that happened when they’d had sex before. How much different would it be to do it _in this position?_ He flexes his dick, now fully sheathed inside Katakuri, a minute movement that has Katakuri _gasping_ such a delectable sigh. _This_ will be fun.

Marco decides not to push yet, to see what happens with Katakuri’s own pacing. Even if he wanted to move now, Katakuri chose his position well. His large, strong, legs are wrapped around Marco in such a way that Marco would be hard pressed to find leverage, and one of his broad hands is more than enough pressure to keep Marco’s chest to the bed, should Katakuri so desire to keep it there. So Marco decides to wait and see.

In the time Marco has been contemplating what faces Katakuri will make when he finally loses control, Katakuri seems to have decided that he’s adjusted enough, tentatively riding up on Marco’s dick and then pushing himself back down. He adjusts his angle as he does, spreading his knees apart and pushing Marco further inside of himself. His mouth parts slightly and his eyes roll back towards the ceiling, and Marco decides to choose _this_ moment to resume explorations with his fingers, first on Katakuri’s muscled hips, tracing the bone until he grasps the man’s cock firmly.

Katakuri _shudders_ and Marco _feels_ the sensation where they are joined. Katakuri tenses around Marco, once, twice, then forcibly pushes himself up and down. Marco meets the move with another stroke, still letting Katakuri get his bearings, still _experimenting_ with this change of pace. Marco briefly wonders if Katakuri is still predicting everything Marco will do and being affected in spite of it, or if he’s _already_ lost his composure. He will have to ask when all is through.

For now, Marco just thrusts into Katakuri, meeting his next movement with his own, reaching, angling, _finding-- there!_ Katakuri’s face changes just before Marco hits the spot, so Marco _knows_ that he hadn’t lost control before this moment. Where Katakuri once looked breathless yet composed, he now has no composure. His eyes are wide, wild, a low, feral growling emitting from deep in his throat

Then Marco _actually_ hits his prostate dead on, and everything about Katakuri intensifies. His breathing goes ragged, and his hands grasp firmly into Marco's sides. 

Marco repeats the maneuver again, and again, bucking up into Katakuri’s heat. Katakuri’s hands loosen, falling onto the bed, where his fingers begin to clench and unclench at the sheets desperately. Marco chooses this moment to attempt to flip their positions, and succeeds.

The look of surprise on Katakuri's face is well worth the slight rake of teeth when Marco kisses Katakuri again. Marco's cock strains inside Katakuri at the sensation, and Katakuri quirks an eyebrow.

Marco responds by thrusting exceptionally hard at Katakuri's prostate. Katakuri should know Marco's preferences for a little pain in bed _by now_.

Katakuri seems to share them, at least a little, since he seems to go a little stiffer at Marco's treatment as well, arching back into the bed as Marco begins to top in earnest. " _Fuck_ ," Marco swears, starting a steady pace, trying every angle he knows to see how far he can get Katakuri to unwind.

Katakuri is so _sexy_ spread out on the bed, pants and nods all he can manage, yet so willing to lean into any of Marco's movements. "How did this _happen?_ " Marco wonders aloud, drawing his hand along Katakuri's side, thrusting into his heat. "How did I get so _lucky?_ "

Katakuri whimpers in response, his hips thrusting back for more friction as Marco stalls. "Do you want me to come?" Marco asks, and Katakuri eagerly _nods,_ eyes wide.

Marco groans. He already was close, but that face… that face and this _heat…_ he _needs_ to push Katakuri over the edge first. He grabs for Katakuri's dick, so far neglected, and roughly strokes it.

"You need to come first then," Marco instructs, and Katakuri just nods again, eyes shutting as he takes another shaky breath, body pliant in Marco's hands. It doesn't take Marco long to pull an orgasm from Katakuri, to feel his tight walls convulsing around his tired dick as his seed spills into his hands. He barely manages to outlast the orgasm, but comes at the first overstimulated face that Katakuri makes when he resumes friction after it is over. A few quick thrusts, and it's all over, Marco rolling over and collapsing besides Katakuri, a giant, sexed out smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew this would at some point end up directly contradicting canon, but I feel like that some point is sooner rather than later, since Big Mom just showed up in Wano at the end of last week's episode. Katakuri _didn't_ show up in the montage, but that doesn't mean we won't soon figure out where he's _actually_ at or that he's there. I obviously intend to continue the story as though what ever it is, isn't the case.


	3. House On A Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And the work is done!
> 
> If I come back for another in this series, I think it will be a prequel, but maybe I get in the mood for something else.
> 
> Enjoy! And if you like it, drop me a comment. :)

Katakuri blinked his eyes open from his position on the bed, feeling comfortably worn from the previous night’s activities. He had fallen asleep holding Marco, cradling his body protectively in his own arms, both still naked. His own cum had dried haphazardly on his still naked chest, and when he sat up to take in the morning light, he felt the crusted remains scratching at his abs, reminding him to shower.

Outside. The shower was outside. Katakuri groaned, playing with the mop of hair on Marco’s head absent-mindedly as the man still slept. The broad grin that widened over Marco’s face warmed Katakuri’s heart. Even if it seemed to only occur while Marco was asleep, Katakuri welcomed the change from the hurt and pain that had been on Marco’s face for the majority of Katakuri’s stay on the island.

Marco grabbed at Katakuri’s hand, seeming to transition closer to wakefulness, and Katakuri allowed it, letting Marco pull the appendage towards his chest to hold it there, cuddling it. Marco mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and Katakuri involuntarily huffed a quiet chuckle, immediately hoping the noise wouldn’t be enough to wake Marco up yet. Unfortunately, Marco’s eyes fluttered open a moment after Katakuri saw they would, adjusting quickly to the scene in front of him. His sleepy grin fell a little, and Katakuri watched Marco’s muscles consciously work to maintain it.

“Good morning,” Katakuri greated, not worrying about the reaction. He was sure that Marco was still having doubts, and he didn’t blame him. Katakuri had never shown any interest in a relationship before, instead hiding Marco’s existence from his family while they met for casual trysts. Brulee was perhaps the only one who knew, simply because he trusted her and because her mirror world allowed him to communicate with Marco when he felt like arranging a booty call.

“Good morning, yoi,” Marco replied, seemingly automatic. Katakuri knew he needed to communicate his feelings today, in private. He hadn’t done more than reassure Marco that his presence wouldn’t be a danger to the village yesterday. He needed to reassure Marco that his presence was not only safe, but a benefit now. Otherwise it was pointless.

“Shower?” Katakuri asked, pointing at his stomach and letting Marco digest the scene. Marco nodded. “Breakfast?” he further prompted, and Marco nodded again.

Despite the suggestion, Katakuri didn’t move, instead electing to hold Marco in bed longer. “I meant what I said yesterday,” Katakuri began, locking eyes with Marco to convey his sincerity. “But I don’t know if I told you the reason.”

Marco shrugged, letting Katakuri talk, and Katakuri figured that he wouldn’t get much better an opening. “Did you hear that the Straw Hat Pirates attacked Tottoland?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in question.

Marco shook his head but shrugged, half a grin on his face. “Luffy?” he asked in response, eyes knowing.

“How’d you guess?” Katakuri asked, a genuine smile on his face. But his face fell on Marco’s behalf shortly after, to something more serious.

“He beat me, you know,” Katakuri added, quietly. “Reminded me that power isn’t about age, or experience, or even predicting the future. Reminded me that I need to exercise my own will and chase what  _ I _ want, or I’ll never be truly strong.”

Katakuri locked eyes with Marco again, putting all his heart into the next statement. “He might have reminded me, but he wasn’t the first to tell me that. You just never sought to beat the lesson into me, so I never let the lesson stick.” Katakuri swallowed nervously before adding, “I wish I had listened to you in the first place.” He chuckled, then locked eyes with Marco, tone growing serious. “But  _ now, _ I  _ know  _ what I want, and I’m not such a coward that I won’t ask late. If you will have me?”

Katakuri’s heart beat so loudly in anticipation of Marco’s words he only heard them once, when Marco actually spoke. “We can try,” Marco agreed, and now Katakuri’s heart was flipping over in his chest while he listened to Marco’s caveats, too excited to immediately calm down and listen to the baggage that Marco was dumping on him.

“We can try, but I can’t promise I’ll be worth it, yoi,” Marco was saying. “I lost a lot of myself when Ace and Pops died. Ace was…” Marco trailed off, voice caught in his throat. “Serious,” he finally managed to finish with a choke, eyes looking up at Katakuri full of hurt and love and meaning, and Katakuri  _ knew  _ and  _ understood _ and wanted to  _ support.  _ He nodded and hugged Marco close, as though he could help take on some grief that way.

“We will follow your pacing,” Katakuri reassured, voice gentle and soothing. Marco nodded into his chest, his arms wrapping around Katakuri’s waist, pulling the man closer to his own body. Katakuri felt himself be pulled back into a horizontal position, and allowed himself to collapse next to Marco, who proceeded to bury himself into Katakuri.

* * *

Katakuri accompanied Marco on his rounds of the island after they both readied for the day. Marco flew just over Katakuri’s head, keeping an eye from the skies, but pacing himself to allow Katakuri time to follow the trek on foot.

“What have you been patrolling for?” Katakuri asked as they rounded the far side of the island. “I know my mother is  _ now  _ an issue…” Katakuri stopped talking, presumably hearing that Marco would begin his response early.

“This island was Whitebeard’s home before he became a pirate,” Marco began, explaining the story once more. “He considered it a treasure. But, with Whitebeard gone, his many enemies have turned their eyes to the islands under his protection. The residents can’t pay a tribute to the world government, so the navy won’t protect them. Whitebeard used to send his whole treasure allotment to this island to protect these villagers.” That was all easy to say. Marco kept his voice calm, explaining the troubles the island faced evenly, focusing on facts and not feelings. “Edward Weevil says he’s Whitebeard’s son, and has probably turned his eyes here by now. Blackbeard is still at large, and I’m sure he’d take revenge on this place if he knew to find it. And without me as a deterrent,  _ any  _ pirate might come here to pillage from the defenseless villagers.”

Katakuri nodded his understanding, but Marco wasn’t really done. He  _ needed  _ Katakuri to know what saving this island was about. What it  _ meant _ . Facts turned to feelings. “Even if I couldn’t protect any other land in Whitebeard’s territory from Blackbeard, or Edward Weevil, or anyone else, I  _ will  _ protect this one. Even if I couldn’t keep the crew from  _ dying _ ,” Marco’s voice broke and he forced himself to keep going, the remaining words coming out as nearly a squeak, “I  _ will  _ protect their graves.”

Katakuri solemnly raised a hand and rested it on Marco’s shoulder as he flew. “I’m here to help,” he promised. “We will fight whoever threatens this place together.”

Marco smiled down at Katakuri’s figure fondly, then grew somber again. “You aren’t allowed to die in the process, yoi,” he demanded, his voice quiet.

Katakuri stopped, and Marco gently alighted on his shoulder at Katakuri’s gesture to avoid having to hover in place. “I can’t take more death, yoi,” Marco continued, voice right next to Katakuri’s ear. He was desperate for reassurance.

“I won’t,” Katakuri promised, turning to face Marco. Marco chose to ignore the uncertainty in Katakuri’s eyes, the knowledge that this was a promise that couldn’t be kept. Marco chose to ignore the fact that Ace had told him he’d made the same promise to Luffy, and had died anyway. Chose to ignore that this was a promise Katakuri didn’t have the ability to keep.

Instead, Marco transformed his face fully human, leaned forward, and captured Katakuri’s upper lip with his own, pulling it away from Katakuri’s teeth, sucking on it softly. The area was targeted, away from danger, and Katakuri seemed content to allow Marco to take the lead. But when Marco’s tongue licked at Katakuri’s teeth, an invitation to deepen the kiss, Katakuri placed a stabilizing hand on Marco’s back, lifted Marco off his shoulder, and suspended the bird in midair as he reciprocated. Soon the two were as far down each other’s throats as they could be without using any devil fruit powers.

Marco’s feet clawed for purchase on Katakuri’s midsection, which caused Katakuri to grimace. Katakuri’s teeth brushed Marco’s tongue, breaking the restraint from the last few days. Marco’s flames rose in response and his welcoming groan drove Katakuri forward. Marco’s heart beat faster as Katakuri pulled back from the kiss, burying his face into Marco’s neck. Marco transformed further, so that the neck was human tissue and not feathery, just in time for Katakuri to begin gently biting him, applying no more force necessary than to claim the other man as his own.

Marco strained in his pants, the possessive pain doing as much if not more than any extreme sex he’d had with Katakuri in the past. It was there to turn him on, controlled,  _ tender  _ even. Enough to give Marco’s lust for pain satisfaction without being unnecessarily violent. A promise in and of itself. Marco shuddered.

After a moment, Marco used a wing to forcibly tilt Katakuri’s head away from his neck, kissing him again. He alighted, body pulling away from Katakuri’s so that he could use a claw to gently make a similar mark on Katakuri’s shoulder. He could feel Katakuri’s work healing with his phoenix fire, and concentrated on slowing the process, hoping he could finish in time. His mark was less careful, rushed to keep up, but he managed it. Healing power flowed from the same talon that made the mark, and he managed his goal: the marks disappeared simultaneously in cool blue flame.

Marco pulled back from Katakuri’s face and gazed into his eyes, holding the position long enough for whatever understanding they had reached to be solidified. Then, Marco flew forward as he transformed his wings so that he could give Katakuri a proper, full body hug.

The sun was lower in the sky when they finally continued walking from that point, and no more conversation was made as they finished the rounds. There were no sails. The island was thankfully, not in danger today.

When they arrived back at the cabin, Marco was much calmer about the prospect of Katakuri joining him to visit the Whitebeard Pirates’ graves than he had been yesterday. He turned to Katakuri and smiled.

“Ready, yoi?” he asked, gesturing to the hill that he trekked nightly. He reached out to take Katakuri’s hand as Katakuri nodded. Marco reopened the door to the small cabin and dragged the larger man outside. “It’s time to introduce you  _ properly  _ to my family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I am not afraid, I won't burn out in this place  
>  My intention is to fade and I will, I will_
> 
> _In this house on a hill  
>  The dead are living still, their intention is to kill and they will, they will  
> Keep your children safe inside, out of pocket, out of mind  
> Until they drink the wine and they will, they will, they will_  
> -The Pretty Reckless, House On A Hill


End file.
